


Witch's Brew

by CharredAshes



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Magic, Romance, Witches, it might be the gayest thing ive ever written, it's really gay guys, lesbian witches doing magic together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharredAshes/pseuds/CharredAshes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was a sign above the door, a thin white board with dark lettering painted in a messy, looping hand: 'Madeline's Arcane Artifacts'. It seemed more the sort of thing you'd find within a grove of evergreens, being cradled by wildflowers, but despite the strange break it made in the city's otherwise modern aesthetic, the shop did not seem out of place. Madeline's was exactly where it needed to be, as mystical things often were." </p>
<p>An original short story about magic and falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witch's Brew

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally written for school. Given that it's probably the most put together short story I've ever written, I decided to post it here. I didn't see myself using this account for original works, but what the hell, right?

Deep within the congestion of the city, past stretches of highway and arching overpasses, there sat a shop. It was a tiny, charming thing, wedged between a supermarket and a French cafe. Nothing about it really fit in with the surrounding cityscape, its walls built from dark wood and inlaid with stained glass windows, a roof tiled in shimmering silver that burned gold in the late afternoon sun. The porch in the front had steps that brushed the sidewalk and was home to a vast collection of windchimes, all different sizes, colors and materials, plus a peculiar rocking chair that swayed gently back and forth regardless of if someone sat in it or not. There was a sign above the door, a thin white board with dark lettering painted in a messy, looping hand: 'Madeline's Arcane Artifacts'. It seemed more the sort of thing you'd find within a grove of evergreens, being cradled by wildflowers, but despite the strange break it made in the city's otherwise modern aesthetic, the shop did not seem out of place. Madeline's was exactly where it needed to be, as mystical things often were.

Past the door, the shop itself was rather unkempt. The light filtering through the colored glass of the windows painted the otherwise dimly lit interior in bright streaks. Dust danced gently though the light or turned into bunnies that congregated in the corners. Towers of thick, leather-bound tomes were piled against the walls. Shelves were lined with all manner of glass vials and flasks, each filled with concoctions in a million tones that glittered, glowed, and bubbled. Unassuming supplies and jars filled with curious ingredients were set to one side of the shop, with stuck on labels that read things like sunflower oil, rose petals (dried), spider's eyes, and cinnamon. Stacks of paper with ready-to-use sigils were stacked messily on a table towards the back, while similar - yet more intricate - symbols hummed with magic from their places etched into the shop's walls.

Next to the table with the sigils was a long checkout counter. Boxes of cheap, mystical nick-knacks were sat to one side, with a cash register at the other end. A huge beast of a dog with a mountain of shaggy, soot-colored hair was snoring like a bear in front of the counter, while a smiling young woman stood behind it. She wore a cloak enchanted to mimic the sky, a shifting sheet of orange down her back with pink clouds drifting lazily across the shoulders. Her pointed hat similarly shadowed the stars, that night's sky twinkling across the dark blue fabric, a crescent moon shining ghostly white on one side. A wand was tucked behind one ear, half-hidden in her mass of pink curls.

The young woman glanced up as the bell over the door jingled, announcing a new arrival. “I'll be right with you!" She called to the girl who'd just entered the shop, turning her immediate attention instead to the gangling man with the salt-and-pepper hair who'd just come up to the counter. "Did you find everything alright, professor?" She asked, leaning across to check the price tag on the book he held.

"As alright as usual," he said with a chuckle. "You know you stock a book titled 'An Organized Workshop: The Mage's Best Friend'? You should consider reading it."

"Oh! Is that it? I _never_ would have guessed reorganizing an entire store would have been so incredibly simple. You're _so_ welcome to come in and help me clean up. It'll probably only take a day or six between the two of us." He laughed and dropped a couple crisp bills into her outstretched hand.

"Alright, alright, fair point. You can turn the sarcasm down a couple notches. I'll pass. Best wishes, Madeline." He leaned down and patted the dog, who gave a little huff in return. "And you, you furry beast." He waved them goodbye, and then he was out the door. The pink haired witch, Madeline, caught her new customer's eye and beckoned her forward.

The girl was skinny and pale, almost sickly looking. Her clothes hung over her frame like she was made of wire hangers. Dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and her nails were bitten painfully short. Sympathy flooded Madeline at once. "Do you do magic consultations?" She asked. Her voice was thready. Her body was slumped. Madeline wasn't quite sure if she was meek or just dreadfully tired, but she would have bet money the answer was 'both'. "I was hoping I could get some help with these." She went digging into the messenger bag hung over her shoulder and produced a slip of paper with a sigil scrawled on it. Madeline looked carefully over it, and a moment later she nodded.

"Sure. It's for relaxation, isn't it?" She asked, waiting for the girl to nod in confirmation before she continued. "See, you've got two problems. Easy to fix though. These lines here?" She drew her finger over the straight lines criss-crossing through the center of the circle. "You drew them too thin. They need to be about a half an inch thick. And -" She pulled the paper up and gave it a sniff. "You sealed it with coconut oil. You want lavender for a relaxation sigil. I can get you set up with a few brushes in the right thickness and a bottle of oil. Or, if you prefer, I can just give you a premade sigil. It won't be as receptive as one you've made with your own magic, but it should work well enough." Her eyes flicked across the girl's sallow face. "You're using these for sleep, right? A sleeping draft might work better. I know of a few books that'll have recipes for some."

"Potions aren't my strong suite," she mumbled. "Just the oil. I have brushes, I used the wrong ones." Madeline moved from behind the counter and walked the girl over to the shelves of ingredients, pulling a couple bottles of pale yellow liquid down.

"This one's a better price for the amount, but this one's more concentrated. It depends on how much a stronger sigil matters in comparison to the money." The pale girl tapped the smaller bottle, and Madeline placed the larger, more inexpensive one up where it had been before. "Come on, I'll ring you up." With the oil stuffed into a little paper bag, the exhausted looking girl took her purchase and scurried out of the shop.

Madeline was more than used to repeat customers. Professor Munoz was in at least once a week for supplies for his enchantments class at the local university. Jo, one of Madeline's werewolf customers, came in every month to purchase preparations for the full moon. Then there was Mr. Francis, a wizened old wizard who always brought his ancient familiar with him: a grouchy, battle-scarred ginger tomcat. (The two loved each other dearly, of course, but Madeline was sure that old thing had nothing but malice for every living creature but Francis.)

In short, it was no surprise to see the spindly young woman back in her shop a week later. It was, however, disappointing to see that the bruise-like bags under her eyes had not faded in the time since Madeline had seen her last. She breathed a soft sigh and crossed her fingers that she might be able to help her this week.

It was close to closing. The girl wandered in as the first dusky tendrils of nightfall began to overtake the orange dusk.

“It's good to see you again!” Madeline called, drawing the girl's attention up to where the young shopkeep stood on the top rung of a tall ladder, restocking the highest shelf of potions. “I'll be down in just a moment! What can I help you with?”

“I was hoping to get some potions advice,” she said, coming to stand at the bottom of the ladder. She sucked in an anxious breath when it wobbled slightly, reaching out quickly to steady it. Madeline seemed unworried.

“Potions! Wonderful! I take it the sigil wasn't quite as powerful as you'd hoped?” The pink haired witch set the last shimmering vial carefully down in its place and began her descent. Her customer didn't release the ladder until both Madeline's feet were back on solid ground.

“Not quite,” she admitted. “Do you have anything that could help with insomnia?” Madeline lit up at once. Was that all? A relaxation sigil was fine for easing a troubled mind, or unwinding after a long day, but it wasn't going to make you fall asleep. She did, however, have just the thing that would. Maybe she would get her chance to help this girl out. She went trotting down the aisle and plucked the proper potion off the shelf.

“A basic sleeping draft should work just fine,” she said, holding out the glass bottle for the other girl to see. It was filled with a viscous, peach-colored fluid that clung to the sides of the bottle. “But it's kind of expensive to be buying on a regular basis if you've got chronic insomnia,” she continued. “It's about ten doses in this bottle. You can buy the ingredients for just a little more, and in the quantities you'll get, you'll be able to make an entire standard size cauldron. Multiple ones, even.”

The exhausted girl's lips quirked into the smallest of grins. “Isn't it bad business sense to tell me that?”

“It's bad business sense to try and cheat your customers,” Madeline said, her tone earnest. “Do you want me to show you? It's a larger investment upfront, but a good cauldron of this stuff can last you months, even if you're using it every night.”

The other witch shifted, her hands nervously twisting a lock of her long, ink-black hair. Her eyes dropped suddenly to the floor, and Madeline saw her throat work around a nervous swallow. “I told you,” she said. “Potions aren't my strong suite. I'd probably just end up putting myself into a coma.” Madeline couldn't help but give a gentle laugh.

“It's really rather simple! But if you're that worried about it, well, you do know I offer consultations.” She reached forward, pressing the potion into the other girl's hand. “On the house. If you decide to take me up on my offer, I'm free Sunday afternoon. Just swing by after closing and knock. Specter will let me know you're there.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the counter, towards the dog who looked as though he hadn't moved an inch since last week.

A moment of silenced passed between them, Madeline smiling a bright, encouraging smile, the other woman staring intensely down at the vial in her hand. “I'll be there,” she finally agreed, though the hesitance was obvious in her tone.

“Glad to hear it!” Madeline turned, her darkening cloak fluttering behind her as she pulled her wand out from behind her ear and opened a book laid on the checkout counter. The other witch drifted after her. “What's your name?” She asked. “I need it for my schedule.”

“Pasithea.” She lingered, watching with interest as Madeline tapped an empty space under the Sunday column and it filled at once with looping handwriting: _Potions Lesson – Pasithea_. Perhaps it was just that she was caught off guard by Madeline's optimism and generosity, but she thought she might have felt something like eagerness as the lesson was laid out in enchanted ink. Yes, it was all muddled and mixed with the sort of anxiety that made her feel as though she'd swallowed a ten pound weight, but it was there.

The promise of what lay ahead heavy on her sleep-deprived mind, Pasithea bid Madeline goodbye and left the shop. The question of if she dare show her face come Sunday settled upon her shoulders and pecked at her head the whole way home.

Sunday came in a wave of warm, late springtime mugginess. The shop had a lazy air about it. Specter lay sleeping, which was nothing unusual. A bit more unusual, Madeline was leaned back in her chair, brim of her hat pulled down over her eyes and snoring along with her dog. Pasithea arrived promptly at closing, but she hovered by the door for what felt like a lifetime, her hands curled into nervous fists at her side. A million outcomes played out in her mind, with the worst scenarios in the forefront. What if she did something wrong and burned down the shop? What if she messed up the potion so badly that it poisoned poor Madeline? What if she failed so entirely that her new teacher had to admit that it had been a mistake to offer her lessons in the first place? The very thought made shame clutch at her stomach. She tried to ignore the way her hand shook as she lifted it and tapped once, twice, three times on the shop's front door.

A sudden torrent of excited barking arose from within. There was a crash (the sound of a startled Madeline's precariously balanced chair toppling backwards) and a long string of swears (the sound of Madeline on the floor). Hurried steps sounded over the barking, and a moment later the pink haired witch pulled the door open for her guest. She was disheveled looking, clothing mussed and hair in her face, but when she saw who it was her lips split into an immediate grin, like there wasn't a person in the world she'd be more pleased to see. Specter was trying to nudge past her, his tail wagging wildly at the prospect of an after-hours visitor. After-hours visitors were usually friends, you see, and usually had some sort of treat for him. Pasithea patted him as Madeline ushered her inside, and he gave a clipped huff before lumbering away.

“I was worried you wouldn't come,” Madeline said.

“I almost didn't.” Had that come out rude? Pasithea hadn't meant it to. Her cheeks turned red with worry.

“But you did.” Her tone hadn't changed. If offense had been taken, it had been immediately brushed away. Madeline put her hand on Pasithea's elbow and steered her towards a door behind the counter. “I've got a cauldron set up for brewing in the basement. Mind the steps.” The two girls headed downwards together, their path illuminated only by the light from the open door at the top and an almost eerie glow of mixed up colors from the bottom.

The basement seemed unfinished. The walls and floor were both bare, chilly stone. Pasithea counted five separate cauldrons in-use, all bubbling with brews that glowed, frothed, and hissed. Smoke poured from some of them, either crawling about on the floor or clouding above their heads. The various mixes filled the basement with a heady aroma, intermingling with the basement's natural damp, earthy scent and flooding Pasithea's head with an overpowering sort of heavy dizziness. There were two tables in the workshop, both cluttered with books and ingredients that spilled over onto the floor in some places. Diagrams and notes were tacked up on the walls. There was a lamp in the far corner, but Madeline had tossed an orange-red sheet over it, keeping the light in the basement warm and just bright enough that you could read and write by it. Similar to what she'd done upstairs with her etchings, Madeline had painted massive sigils on blank swatches of wall, though Pasithea didn't have a clue what any of them might do at a glance.

In the middle of it all, there was a single, rather lonely looking cauldron. Madeline had clearly cleaned around that particular area so Pasithea wouldn't be in danger of tripping over any of the clutter. The circle of tidiness seemed oddly bare in comparison to the rest of the room.

“Since you've said you have trouble with potions,” Madeline said, taking up a post at the cauldron's side. “We're going to do this as by-the-books as possible. There's a... A rhythm to making potions. But I think if I'm going to teach you, then I should do it like a teacher. The way my potions professor did it, we learned all the basics by the books first before we tried to develop our own individual methods. It's easier to get into it when you know the techniques off the top of your head. How much experience do you have with potions?”

Pasithea looked away from Madeline's steady gaze, fingers picking anxiously at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Technically speaking? Um, very little. None. At all, really, I guess.”

“A lot of people have trouble with potions. It's a very precise work,” Madeline said, taking Pasithea's inexperience and rolling right along. Though Madeline herself was rather worried over this going badly, anything but reassurances would just make it worse. It was more a lack of faith in her abilities as a teacher than anything else. She maintained her smile, and in her head whispered a prayer to all the Gods and Goddesses above to let her get through this lesson without fumbling anything. Consultations? She could do consultations. This was a similar beast, but for some reason much more daunting. “Let's just start with reading the recipe.”

Pasithea's eyes scanned the page until she found the recipe they wanted, and she read. “Five large sprigs of dried lavender – shredded, one cup of room temperature cow or goat's milk, a half a cup of cherry wine. Stir together, let simmer for fifteen minutes. Add four cups of enchantment stabilizer...”

Pasithea went down the instructions, becoming more and more nervous with each one she listed off. What was a rose hip? Would the cauldron explode if she forgot to add the stabilizer? Would it kill her if she added too much sandalwood oil? The ingredients were mostly innocent looking, flowers and herbs, but then there were things like 'one half tail of newt'. She counted fifteen ingredients in total, and very few of them made sense to her. The number itself seemed nauseating. It didn't help that she kept getting things wrong when Madeline moved them along to prep work. She had to jump in twice in the first twenty minutes, gently correcting her on the way to cut berries and on the proper technique for crushing mint. Pasithea's face felt hot with humiliation at doing so badly right off the bat, but at the same time the corrections were oddly comforting. At least she knew Madeline wasn't about to let the both of them die in some fiery explosion due to her incompetence. She felt helpless whenever her instructor drifted away for a moment to attend to one of her own brews.

The lesson was blessedly short, the potion only taking an hour to settle into its final form. Madeline was radiating happiness at the result. “There we go! One batch of sleeping draft! And you were worried you wouldn't be able to do it.”

The ecstatic smile offered up by the pink haired witch felt unearned, and Pasithea found she couldn't return it. “I'm sorry!” She blurted out. Madeline's smile faded in confusion at the apology. “I know you tried. It was so sweet of you to do this, and I feel awful wasting your time. But I didn't manage five minutes of brewing without you holding my hand.” Madeline's grin melted into a soft, empathetic smile, and she laid her hand gently against Pasithea's forearm. The touch was warm. Against the bare skin of her arm, Pasithea could feel that Madeline's fingers were soft, but lightly calloused with her work. The brush of skin-on-skin made Pasithea's breath catch, just a little.

“Pasithea, I had to take three different potions courses to get my general magics degree at the university, and there were plenty of people who could still brew circles around me. You don't need to be embarrassed, and you certainly don't need to apologize to me. It wasn't a chore to teach you, and you did _very_ well for having as little experience as you do.” Madeline's voice was heartbreakingly honest. Her brown eyes stared up at the taller witch with kindness and understanding, and not a single thought in Pasithea's head could convince her that she didn't mean what she said. “If you're willing,” she said. “Then we can try again next week and see how you do with a little less guidance.”

Pasithea's heart gave a painful squeeze at the offer. She wanted her back for another try? “Yes,” she agreed at once, before she had any time to talk herself out of it. Madeline's smile retook its usual form as a joyous grin, and Pasithea decided that even if next week was no different, she'd like to see that smile again all the same.

In the weeks that followed, Pasithea found that Madeline's encouraging enthusiasm never faded. There was something wholly heart-warming about being looked upon with such optimism. Pasithea couldn't find it in herself to think she'd ever get potions right, but the lessons were always enjoyable regardless, made as much by the constant ray of sunshine teaching her. It was a new feeling for Pasithea. People usually made her anxious, and friendship made her feel unworthy and selfish for taking up someone's time when she knew they deserved so much better than her. It wasn't so much that those worries never plagued her during her time with Madeline. More that the other girl's constant reassurances that she truly enjoyed Pasithea's company and their lessons together were much too good at chasing those intrusive thoughts away, at least for a while.

In what felt like much too little time, they were coming upon their ninth lesson together. Pasithea would have thought two straight months of spending every Sunday with the same person would have had her burned out on their company, but as she pushed open the door that afternoon, she found there was a comforting familiarity to the routine and to Madeline's presence. She slipped Specter a dog treat when he came to greet her, then headed straight for the stairs to the basement.

She found Madeline there as usual, stirring a cauldron. Or perhaps 'fighting with' was a better descriptor. The dark blue ooze inside was so thick it seemed hellbent on eating the large metal stirring stick clasped tightly in both Madeline's hands.

“Seems like you're having quite the battle,” Pasithea said, coming over to watch. Madeline shot her a grin that made Pasithea's heart beat in double time.

“I just got the sequel to _200 Essential Potions Recipes_ , _200 More Essential Potions Recipes_. This is a new recipe for an all-purpose skin issue cream I'm thinking about stocking,” she said. “Supposedly treats rashes, acne, sunburns, all that stuff. The book said it would be thick, but I'm thinking I might have mixed it wrong.” She released the stirring stick, and Pasithea gave a quiet, amused snort at the sight of it standing perfectly straight without any support.

“It does look a bit.. Much,” Pasithea agreed. “Better than I'd have done though.” Madeline gave the cauldron a sniff and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ugh, smells like burned rubber. This'll be _so_ fun to clean out later. Help me with this thing, would you?” She grabbed hold of the stirring stick and waited for Pasithea to do the same, then the two girls pulled back as hard as they possibly could. The cauldron began to scoot forward, so Madeline put one foot on the side of it to hold it in place and the added leverage allowed them to yank the stirring stick free. The sudden release sent them tumbling back in a heap, to which they both responded to by immediately bursting into laughter.

“I could stay a while after my lesson and help you tidy up,” Pasithea offered as Madeline tossed the gunk-coated stirring stick off to the side.

“I'm definitely not gonna say no to more of you around here,” Madeline said, standing and grabbing Pasithea's hands to haul her to her feet as well. The words made Pasithea go slightly pink, but by now Madeline was so used to her blushing over every tiny perceived embarrassment that she scarcely even noticed. “Ready to get started?”

“U-um, actually, there's one other thing.” Pasithea pulled her purse down off her shoulder and went searching through it, setting it on the ground once she'd found what she wanted. It was a long, thin box, gift wrapped in pink paper with little white dogs patterned across it and a blue ribbon on top. Just the thought of presenting it to Madeline was making Pasithea's face light up a glowing cherry red, so she covered her eyes with one hand and stuck the gift out in offering with the other. “Here! It's a t-thank you. For b-being so patient.” She felt those warm, calloused fingers meet her hand as Madeline took the box, and as soon as she was relieved of it, Pasithea was quick to use her now free hand and add additional coverage to her face. There was the sound of ripping paper, then a soft _oh_ as Madeline uncovered the contents.

Inside the box was a quill, crafted from a fine looking feather. She ran her fingers gingerly across it, feeling how soft it was. The feather itself was brown on one side and white on the other, with darker stripes down the middle.

“I know quills are pretty outdated,” Pasithea said into her palms. “And I know you mostly use your wand to take notes. S-so you could just use it for decoration. B-but it's from my familiar, and I thought you might like it.” There was a moment of silence, then the sound of a box being set down upon a crowded wooden table. Pasithea felt Madeline's hands curl around her wrists and gently urge them away from her face so she could look at her.

“I love it,” she said, tone so low it seemed almost private. Pasithea savored the moment. “Thank you, Pasithea.” The sound of her name from Madeline's lips sent electricity down Pasithea's spine. “Why don't we get started on that lesson?” Madeline's voice brought her back to the present, and she nodded quickly, though her heart gave a pang as Madeline's hands left her wrists.

The cauldron was sat in the middle of the room as always, book open beside it, ingredients and tools stacked neatly within reach. With a cheerful look on her face, Madeline hauled herself up to sit on the table next to the ingredients. Pasithea raised her eyebrow curiously. “I think you're ready to try it on your own,” she said. “I'm not going to say a single word.” Pasithea went immediately pale, but Madeline was quick to reassure her. “It's okay! I won't let you do anything seriously wrong, I promise. And I don't think you will, anyway! You can do this! I believe in you, I really do!” She laid her hand over Pasithea's, giving her fingers a light squeeze, and Pasithea nodded shakily.

“I'll try.”

“That's all you need to do.”

Pasithea was wracked with anxiety. Her eyes flew constantly to the side so she could consult the pages of the recipe book. Her hands shook when she lifted the knife to cut her ingredients. She could feel that her palms were slick with sweat as she grasped the stirring stick. _Please_ , she whispered in her head, _please don't let me mess this up. Please let me do something right for once._ She was a slow worker, but the sleeping draft was blessedly forgiving with the time it had to simmer and stir. The recipe announced the estimated time to make as being half an hour, but Pasithea took double that – the same amount of time it took her with Madeline directing every moment and stopping again and again to fix something. She set the lid down on the cauldron to let it simmer for the final stretch, her brain full of silent prayers for this to just _please go right_. Pasithea jumped when the pink plastic kitchen timer shrilly announced the final minutes to be up.

Her hands gripped the cauldron's lid tight, hesitating momentarily before pulling it away as quick as possible and squeezing her eyes shut. Madeline leaned over to peer into the cauldron, squealing in delight at what she saw. Pasithea dared to open her eyes, and what she saw inside the cauldron made her breath catch painfully in her throat.

It was filled with a viscous, peach-colored fluid that shimmered softly in the basement light. It was _perfect_ , and Pasithea knew she shouldn't feel so much pride about getting a beginner level potion right after nine weeks of practice but couldn't help the way her heart swelled. She turned to Madeline and dropped the cauldron lid, which resounded with a loud clatter on the basement floor. Neither girl seemed to notice, much too caught up in each other as Madeline threw her arms around Pasithea's shoulders and hugged her as tight as she could from her place still sitting on the table.

Pasithea leaned down to meet her, slipping her arms around the short, bubbly witch's middle and pressing their lips together in an impulsive, celebratory kiss. There was a brief rush of positive emotions where Pasithea thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly be better than what she was experiencing right now, then she realized what she'd done. No matter what she might feel for Madeline, she had made a terrible mistake. She knew there was no way her emotions were returned. Madeline was _wonderful_. What could Pasithea possibly give that would make her worthy of affection from someone like this? In the split second it took for those anxieties to take hold though, Madeline had already pushed back, her lips returning the sudden kiss with eagerness. Her hands lifted, cupping Pasithea's face, sliding up into her dark hair.

“Here I was, all worried about how to ask you out.” Pasithea could feel Madeline grin against her lips as she spoke, and she pulled back in surprise to respond.

“You were worried about how to ask _me_ out? You're so – you're so...” Her tongue felt clumsy as she tried to find the words, so instead she pulled Madeline into another hug and buried her face against her neck. Laughter bubbled up between them again. Pasithea's eyes welled with tears, and for once she knew it wasn't because of frustration or anger or even just plain sadness. There was so much feeling inside of her at that moment, so many good things, she felt they had to come out or she might explode. In laughter, in tears, in kisses, it didn't matter.

“The cafe next door doesn't close until ten,” Madeline said into Pasithea's hair. “Can I buy you dinner?”

Pasithea pulled back at last so they could see each other, and she felt herself melt at the sight of that ecstatic grin she'd come to like so much. “Madeline,” she said. “I don't think there's anything I'd like more right now.”

The two of them put out the fire beneath Pasithea's cauldron so the sleeping draft wouldn't burn while they were out. Fingers laced together, the two witches left the shop, and the both of them shared a thought: _I'm the luckiest girl in the entire world right now_. And as it turned out, both of them were right.

 


End file.
